


The Man In The Mirror

by ToodleOfDeeth



Category: BBC Ghosts, Ghosts (2019), Ghosts (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Only rated teen bc there's a swear, Slice of Life, Unrequited Crush, ghost stuff yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 14:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18573616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToodleOfDeeth/pseuds/ToodleOfDeeth
Summary: In which Thomas is a hopeless romantic, the Captain admires someone he probably shouldn't, and Mike sees someone else in the mirror.





	The Man In The Mirror

The Captain stood straight, his ankles touching, crop in hands, and staring straight out of the window into the morning sun. His eyes drifted lower to the driveway and the strange car, but when he caught himself, his eyes snapped back up and he pursed his lips. If he were still in the ranks the Coronal would have scolded him - not being able to maintain himself at his post was shameful, especially since death had given him ample opportunity to practice.

Routine was commonplace in the manor. Kitty preened herself in one of the mirrors in the hall, Julian imagined speeches in the upper bedrooms, and Lady Fanny (when not throwing herself out of the upper window) liked to wander the gardens and kitchens. He knew what made his eyes wander, but he wished he didn't.

The new fellow, apparently called Mike, was… pleasant to look at. He could admit that at the very least. If he had been around when the Captain was serving then... well… he and his old mannerisms couldn't bring it to a willing voice, but the troublesome unwilling voice inside him still bubbled out.

“Oh what I would do to you…”

“Pardon?”

The Captain jumped, and if his boots were not so tight he might have very well left them behind on the floor. He snapped around, his eyes uncharacteristically wide as he finally noticed Thomas lounging on the loveseat by the unlit fire. His eyes and hair alike sparkled in the morning sun. Something downstairs crashed and Mike let out a whoop. Neither ghost moved.

“Ah. Thomas, I didn't realise you were here.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, his face shifting with that motion from a confused frown to smugness. “Oh, so you weren't speaking to me?”

“No.”

“Who then…” And Thomas’ face switched to realisation, “Oh, the man-”

“No! Don't be- don't be so ridiculous. I would never, not with-! I was married!”

“To someone you didn't like.”

“Oh say you, Mr. Thirty-Eight-Year-Old-Virgin. At least I found someone.”

Thomas stood up, walking to the window with determination in his step. The bright morning light shone onto his tattered Georgian clothing, and if you looked from a certain angle, through him as well. The Captain stood back a little, being reminded that Thomas was, in fact, a little taller than him.

“I have someone,” Thomas claimed, “She loved me, but her father didn’t. If that isn’t the epitome of romance then I don’t know what is!”

“Well, you’re right about one thing. You don’t know what romance is.” The Captain kept going before Thomas could interrupt him again, “Besides, all that doesn't matter. We’re dead.”

Thomas frowned. “Yes, well, I suppose we are.”

The mood, now stilted and awkward, stayed still for a good moment, neither ghool moving from the window as they watched the man below move some bags of building supplies from his car to the floor, and then locking it. Trying not to give too much away, the Captain adjusted himself slightly, wringing his crop in his hands, and glanced over at Thomas. Predictably he was in his own little world, one hand on the drapes and another on the windowsill, but the Captain still felt comfortable enough to let his guard down, even just for a moment.

Mike moved from the car, two bags to each hand, and Thomas apparently felt the need to speak up.

“I do hope Julian didn't kill her.” The Captain hazarded another glance to him, and noticed his forlorn features. If Thomas were to have seen it on his own face he might have felt the need to be poetic about it, but he had always been a bit shit with words. “Goodness knows if she’ll come back.”

“I suppose she will. Even if she doesn't, we’ll at least be safe from the ‘ _hotel’_ idea.” He said the word with disgust, almost spitting it out. Somewhere downstairs there was another crash and a swear from Mike, but both ghosts ignored it once again.

“Yes, but we both know what happens to old houses.”

“They're renovated.”

“Or demolished.”

They looked at one another, then to the car again.

The Captain cleared his throat. “Well regardless… Not much we can do about it all for now, unless you have a _ghostly power_ that you’ve yet to tell us about.”

“No,” Thomas sighed, the very picture of a hopeless romantic as he leant against the wall again, “Nothing that I can think of.”

“Very well.” The Captain took the opportunity to get the hell out of the room, not wanting to catch whatever had made Thomas so melancholy all of a sudden (and the Captain didn't really want to acknowledge that it might have indeed been their little talk of death, for considering that they were not supposed to be conscious, they were quite lively).

Taking his march down the stairs, two at a time, the Captain busied his mind with the thought of their war, as if Alison did indeed return then they would need to change tactics and discuss as a troop what their options were. He may be the Captain, but he was not the only member to their party with valid ideas. His march, however, was interrupted as his cursed head got distracted once more, although this time it was by a flash of light moving across his eyes. He glanced through the doorway to the entryway, seeing Mike on his knees sweeping the smaller shards of a broken mirror and with another pile of larger pieces close by. The Captain felt the need to smirk, seeing how if Lady Fanny were here she would have lost her temper at him for breaking another heirloom.

He watched, taking note of how Mike didn't really mind that he broke something, instead being more concerned with it being ‘another thing broken’, although he said it in a much ruder way. If he _were_ still alive, the Captain thought, he wouldn't hesitate to call Mike out on his language.

Mike looked up, his back still turned but face still visible from one of the shards of mirror. The Captain watched as Mike’s eyes went from the dustpan and brush, then to the mirror shard, and then widened as they met the Captain’s.

Frozen solid, neither man moved, but in a sharp movement Mike turned around, looking to where the Captain would have been stood, but knowing an opportunity when he saw one, the Captain took a hasty retreat behind the door, holding his chest where his heart would have been should he still be alive. He almost held his breath, instead clutching one hand over his mouth and pressing further against the wall, listening out for the noises Mike made when he stood on the creaking floor.

One footstep, then two, Mike approached the doorway into the main living room, the Captain watching intently as the little slither of light in the door’s hinge was obstructed and then returned, and he tore his gaze from it to look as Mike walked into the room. It all felt childish, standing behind a door to avoid someone, but it worked. Mike looked around - behind the couch and he knocked a couple of suspicious curtains around, but after a minute or two seemed satisfied, and pulled the door to on his way back into the hall.

Taking a moment to recover, the Captain stood there before taking his leave as quietly as possible to the house’s kitchen, and once there deflated. That was too close for comfort, although he wasn't entirely sure why he was so worried considering… actually; he now had a reason to be worried about someone seeing him, as he wasn't _supposed_ to be seen. Did Mike see something else? It truly seemed like their eyes met, so surely not.

Interesting questions had interesting answers. And interesting questions sometimes needed a little more than reading to answer them, so perhaps some experimentation was in order. The Captain stood straighter, decided. Yes, he would test his hypothesis. He heard during his life that ghosts could present themselves in many ways, but the one he’d heard least often was them appearing in mirrors. It _was_ a possibility, though the likeness was debatable, but just having something to do was exciting in and of itself.

A grin, small and mischievous, spread across his face. It was nice to finally have something to look forward to after one hundred years of nothing, even if it did come at the expense of these new ‘house guests’.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware i have a habit of writing for small fandoms, but being the first (that im aware of!) to write a fic for this sweet new TV show is a new territory for me. If you enjoyed this, I would really appriciate you giving this fic Kudos, comments or bookmarks, as they inspire me to write more.


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